


baa baa black sheep

by r2metoo



Series: Black Sheep [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bullying, Homophobic Language, Minor Character Death, Multi, Sam is seventeen, castiel is fifteen, dean is twenty one, hs au kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3937528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r2metoo/pseuds/r2metoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is threatened at school, and Sam and Dean do what they have to do to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	baa baa black sheep

Castiel is shoved against a set of lockers, grunting when one of the harsh metal knobs gets him at the most sensitive part of his lower back. The two boys are huge seniors, and it looks like they’ve been held back a few years because there’s no way they’re eighteen or younger. The one is bulkier than Dean, and, frankly, they both scare the everloving _shit_ out of Castiel. They’re mean and rough and in his face and calling him names…

 

“Yeah, little faggot,” the one says harshly, his breath grazing Castiel’s cheek with how close he is. “I bet you like this, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah, I bet he’s a kinky sumbitch,” the other boy says, laughing in a horrible way. “I bet he loves being manhandled.”

 

Castiel closes his eyes, because he’s so scared that he’s afraid if he keeps looking, he’ll start crying. He’s never been afraid like this before, but it’s after school, he’d been in the library studying, and when the librarian finally kicked him out, just about everyone had gone home. Everyone except these two, apparently.  

 

Castiel’s family might be neglectful, but they’ve never been abusive to him. His older brothers have always been content to ignore him like his parents do, and so far he’s always stayed under the radar of bullies. He’s not even sure what drew the attention of these two Neanderthals, but if he can figure it out, he’s going to do his best to never do it again. If he survives this, that is.

 

“Oh, is wittwe wamb going to cwy?” the obscenely big one asks.

 

“I think he might,” the slightly smaller one grins. “Poor little lamby wamby.”

 

Angry, Cas pushes against his assailant and earns a backhand across the face for his troubles.

 

“What’s going on over here?” a voice asks mildly. Castiel’s breath catches in his throat. He’d know that voice anywhere. Looking over, he sees Sam, arms crossed over his chest. His face is neutral, but Castiel knows well enough that this means nothing. Sam once had that exact expression on his face when Castiel ejaculated all over his face while Dean fucked him from behind. Sam had barely flinched, but held that same expression while he ordered Castiel to lick his mess up, and the only thing that had managed to change his expression was when he finally couldn’t hold out and had pushed Castiel back down against Dean’s chest and taken him just like that, Dean’s semen still coating the inside of Castiel’s ass.

 

“Oh, hey, Winchester,” the mountain-sized on says. “We found us a toy. If you want to play, then you’re going to have to wait your turn.”

 

Sam raises an eyebrow and hums out a little sound that seems noncommittal. Castiel is trying not to react, but Sam still has that damned neutral expression on his face, and Castiel is actually afraid for a moment that the guy he’s been so very intimate with, the guy he calls “daddy” for fuck’s sake, is just going to leave him with these beasts. A tear spills out over one cheek, and he closes his eyes again in embarrassment.

 

“Aw, Sammy, I think he was hoping you’d come to his rescue,” one of them laughs out. Castiel doesn’t care which one it is. Not anymore. If he dies at their hands, he’s perfectly willing to go. The one person he thought might care...

 

“Walt, let him go.”

 

“Is he your girlfriend?” Walt laughs.

 

“Maybe you should let him go,” the other one says. His voice actually quivers just a bit.

 

“Let him go?” Walt asks. “Come on, Roy, why would I do that? You afraid of little Sammy Winchester?”

 

Roy puts to words what Castiel is thinking. “Sam’s one thing, but Dean…”

 

“Dean ain’t here,” Walt reminds them all, pressing closer to Castiel and grabbing his hair harshly. “Is he, Sammy?”

 

Sam’s face has gone from neutral to furious. Castiel knows him, knows how in control he is. He’s not exactly sure of what Sam is capable of, but he knows enough to be afraid for Walt and Roy. This is because Castiel knows something Walt and Roy don’t know. Dean might be the most frightening one, but Sam is, hands down, the most sadistic of the two.

 

“The name is Sam, not Sammy, and if you want to leave here without a concussion, you’ll put him down. Now.”

 

Walt jerks Castiel’s head backwards sharply enough to make his neck crack, and Castiel cries out despite himself.

 

“Make me,” Walt challenges.

 

Sam moves like those kung-fu movies Dean makes them watch. His grace is a thing of beauty, even when it’s being used in something so brutal as smashing a fist into Roy’s face, elbowing Walt, cracking their heads together, and then smashing them both to the pavement. Rage barely controlled, Sam leans over Walt and whispers in the gentlest voice imaginable, “You can’t even _begin_ to understand how much he means to me,” before punching him in the face four times, leaving him bloodied and unconscious.

 

It was at this moment that Roy decided to spring into action and jumped on Sam’s back. “You can’t do that to him!” he snarls, choking Sam from behind. Sam slams his head back so hard that Castiel can hear the sound of their skulls colliding. He turns when Roy slacks his hold and slams the heel of his hand against Roy’s nose, audibly breaking it.

 

Just as no one came to Castiel’s defense, there is no one to care that two of the largest members of the football team have just been left broken and bloody in one of the school hallways. No one is around, anyway. It was probably why they had felt free to attack Castiel in the first place.

 

“You okay?” Sam asks, running a shaky hand over Castiel’s cheek.

 

Castiel grabs his hand and kisses his bloody knuckles. “I’m fine. Are you okay?” His voice is too shaky, too high.

 

Sam nods, but he looks wrecked. His eyes are watery with tears, and his lips are drawn into a tight line. Castiel reaches for their backpacks and leads Sam from the hallway, a little surprised when Sam wraps an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and takes the backpacks from him.

 

“Dean’s here for us,” Sam says, his voice gravelly and low. “This way.”

 

Sam brings Castiel to the front parking lot where Dean was waiting in his shiny black Impala. Castiel was sure that half the school has to know by now that the little nerdy kid with the big family is being brought to school every day by Dean Winchester. A good portion of the population has been cornering him to ask him about the elusive Winchester brothers, and whether he thought they might have a chance with either of them. Castiel mostly plays dumb and downplays his role in their lives, because as far as he knows, Sam still flirts with girls and brings them on dates from time to time, so he doesn’t want to do anything to ruin Sam’s popularity, or his reputation as a perfectly heterosexual member of society. Castiel has even been allowing a few girls to flirt with him, so that he can follow in Sam’s footsteps and divert suspicion.

 

He doesn’t really care about perception for his own reputation, but he knows that Dean could be in a lot of trouble if he were found having sex with a minor child under the age of sixteen, and another minor child under the age of eighteen.  He figures, as Sam draws him closer to Dean’s car that perhaps Walt and Roy had noticed the girls paying attention to him, and that prompted their attack? He’s not sure. He decides to not think about it. Sometimes people are just hateful for the sake of hatefulness, you know?

 

Sam opens the back door and throws the backpacks inside. Castiel is about to duck into the backseat when Sam drags him into the front, sandwiching him between himself and Dean.

 

“What happened?” Dean barks, taking in both their faces.

 

“Just drive,” Sam orders, pulling Castiel close and stroking his hand through his hair, soothing where Walt had yanked it so harshly.

 

Castiel begins to explain his encounter with the two boys at Dean’s insistence that “Somebody better start talking yesterday!”

 

By the time they get to Dean and Sam’s house and park the car, Dean’s hands are wrapped so tightly on the steering wheel that his knuckles are completely white. Castiel starts to feel very bad about this. He’s apparently ruining everyone’s day, and two boys have broken noses now because of him.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have…” but he’s not sure what it was he shouldn’t have done. He shouldn’t have existed? He gulps, suddenly realizing that yes, this is what he’s the most sorry about.

 

“Don’t you dare be sorry,” Dean growls, leaning over him so he can kiss him. “Fuck, those bastards. I’m going to kill them!” And then Dean takes Sam’s hand and kisses his bruised knuckles the same way Castiel had. “You watched out for our sweet boy,” Dean murmurs, hearts in his eyes. “You did a good job, Sammy. I’m proud of you.”

 

Sam gulps, his face completely guilty. “I lost control.”

 

Dean leans over and kisses him. “No, don’t say that, sweetheart. You’re a good daddy to our baby boy. I know you are.”

 

Sam looks like he wants to protest, but growing up the way he and Dean have, he doesn’t have it in him to disagree with his older brother. He wipes his eyes and nods, then kisses Dean and Castiel, his hands and breath still shaky. “I scare myself sometimes,” he whispers. “I get so angry, and I can usually hold onto it, but I just couldn’t when I saw them…” he pulls Castiel into him, cradling his face against his neck. “What they were doing to our boy.”

 

Dean wraps his arms around them both and rests his head on top of Sam’s. Castiel is completely sandwiched between them, and he feels safe and loved and wanted. “That’s right, just think about that. We three are all we have in the world, Sam. All we have in the world. All we can count on.”

 

Sam nods and Dean kisses both him and Castiel on the forehead, the way that Castiel has seen some fathers do. Fathers that aren’t his. Fathers that aren’t Dean and Sam’s.

 

“It looks like I need to take care of both my boys,” Dean murmurs.

 

They follow him into the house. Castiel had only seen John Winchester once, and Dean and Sam had told him the same lie they always told Castiel’s parents, that Sam was tutoring Castiel, and then John had drunk so much that he passed out in front of the TV. John doesn’t have a job; Dean does, and he pays for everything from Sam’s clothes, which are second-hand, to John’s alcohol. Dean never acts like it’s a big deal. In fact, he acts like he wishes his dad would just leave for good.

 

Castiel knows the feeling.

 

The first thing Dean does is call Castiel’s mom. “Hi, Mrs. Novak? This is Dean Winchester. Yes, ma’am. Well, I was going to say, if you like, he can eat dinner here and stay the night. I can drive him and Sam to school tomorrow.” Castiel frowns. He loves Dean and Sam and won’t give them up for anything, but he knows that his mom _should_ be suspicious of him spending so much time in the Winchester house. She _should_ be upset and wondering why two older boys are taking such an interest in her young son. But she doesn’t care. She’s told Castiel that he’s a disappointment. If she knew that he was forging a deviant sexual relationship with two brothers, she’d probably chalk it up to him being everything she’s never wanted. “Oh, no, ma’am. He’s no trouble. Of course I’d tell you,” Dean says, winking at Castiel. “Oh, he’s an angel,” he gushes, and Castiel moves to Dean and nuzzles at his neck, earning himself a one-armed hug and a soft stroke on the back of his neck.

 

When Dean hangs up the phone, Castiel already has his hands up Dean’s shirt, stroking his chest and stomach, and Sam is behind Dean, his hands closely following Castiel’s, and sometimes they touch and Sam presses Castiel’s hands into Dean’s skin.

 

“That’s enough,” Dean says, kissing them each on the cheek. “Dinner time. Go wash.”  

 

Castiel feels confused. He doesn’t know what to do, or how to feel. He’s still shaky, sore where he was abused. Sam’s knuckles are bloody and he’s still sniffling now and then. Both he and Castiel wash up, though, because Dean told them to, and they know how to follow directions.

 

“Cas, I’m sorry,” Sam whispers when Castiel dries his hands on a towel.

 

“Why are you sorry?” Castiel feels like he should be sorry. “It’s all my fault…I was there, alone, and then you-you-had to…”

 

Sam pulled him close, and Castiel sank into his embrace. “This wasn’t your fault. You have a right to be safe at your school.”

 

Castiel couldn’t believe it, but Sam’s words actually had a calming effect on him. He trusted Sam, trusted that he was telling the truth. Oddly, the relationship he has with Sam and Dean requires trust and communication. Without those things, they’d fall apart. So he trusts Sam. He has to. 

 

“I want you to teach me to fight back.”

 

He feels Sam nod against his head. “Yeah, okay.”

 

“Hey, you two takin’ a shower in here?” Dean asks, pushing the door open. His eyes fall on both Cas and Sam, still shaking, still upset, and something in him goes a little hard. His jaw clenches, and his eyes turn a brighter shade of green. “Come on,” he says, his voice gruffer than usual. “Dinner.”

 

Dinner is stilted, but not in a way that makes Castiel think Dean is angry at him. He knows, can feel, that Dean is angry at something, though. He has a strange energy, and it makes both Sam and Castiel jittery. They just barely manage to finish their homework before ten o’clock, when Dean sends them to bed with gruff words and lingering kisses.

 

Castiel is sure he won’t be able to sleep, but Sam wraps him up in a huge, warm hug, and he’s out in seconds.

 

It’s still dark out when he wakes up. Sam is snoring softly, laying on his back. Castiel is still tucked up against his side, using his shoulder as a pillow. Castiel feels something is odd, so he lifts his head and looks around, finding Dean sitting by the window where the dawn is slowly breaking through the darkness. Dean is in a bathrobe, and his hair is wet and plastered down onto his forehead. His face has a very strange look on it, something Castiel can’t quite place. His lips are tight and his eyes have a glassy look to them.

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean seems to snap out of a trance. “Go back to sleep, Cas.”

 

Castiel looks behind him, to the empty place on the bed. “Come lay down, Dean.”

 

“Just go back to bed, sweetheart.” 

 

Castiel shakes his head. “Dean, no, come hold me. I need you.”

 

Dean rolls his eyes, but gets up and drops his robe, then crawls in behind Cas, sandwiching him in next to Sam. Castiel sighs and twines his fingers with Dean’s, sinking back into sleep until Sam wakes him up sometime later for school.

 

}o{

 

“Did you hear?” Meg asks him, leaning against the locker next to his.

 

“Hear what?” Sam asks, frowning. He’s been following Castiel around all day between classes, and while a part of Castiel wants to object to the attention, he can’t help but feel protected and loved.

 

“Apparently Walt Stiegers and Roy Williams are dead.”

 

Castiel accidentally slams his locker shut. Sam’s hand clamps down on his shoulder in an almost painful grip.

 

“Walt and Roy?” Sam asks, his voice and face completely neutral. “Cas, weren’t those the guys who were calling you names the other day?”

 

“I believe the exact word was “Faggot,” Sam,” Castiel amends, his voice betraying his emotions.

 

Meg snorts. “Well, you weren’t the only one. I think they hoped they could figure out who was gay and who was straight by terrorizing everyone in school. Looking for trouble, if you ask me.”

 

“We didn’t ask you,” Sam growls.

 

Meg raises her hands in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger here. I’m just saying, someone killed them. Good riddance.”

 

“That’s a very odd position to take,” Castiel says, though his mouth feels wrong around the words.

 

“Two people are dead,” Sam steps in. “Show some respect.”

 

Meg shakes her head and turns away. “Don’t try and pretend like you care, Winchester.”

 

The rest of the day is cancelled by the school. They are all taken into the gym where the school psychologists talk to them about grief and offer counseling. Sam and Castiel hide under the bleachers with a few other kids, but they stay away from everyone, happily inhaling second-hand joint smoke and ignoring a girl who is giving a very enthusiastic blow job to a boy in the darkest corner.

 

“Are you okay?” Sam asks when he’s sure everyone is too involved in their own dramas to pay attention to theirs.

 

The thing is, Cas is great. He’s fine. He feels very odd, and he knows he’s supposed to feel bad, sad, horrified that Dean killed two boys for him. For Sam. For all of them. He should want to turn away from the Winchesters and never look at them again. He should tell a teacher or the cops or anyone. But he’s not going to because frankly, he doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about is keeping Dean safe.

 

“I’m fine, Sam. Are you okay?”

 

Sam nods and lightly strokes Castiel’s face. “As long as we’re together, I’m great.”

 

“We’ll always be together,” Sam promises. “Always, Cas. All three of us.”

 

They have to check in with their teachers before they leave, and are separated for a few minutes, but they meet at the front of the school, waiting anxiously until they see Dean’s big black car. Castiel gets in the back seat like he usually does, even though he wants to climb into Dean’s lap and kiss him so hard as to leave bruises. He can’t, though. Not even when they come to a stoplight, or when they turn onto their street. He has to wait until they’re inside and the door is closed before he can throw himself into Dean’s arms and thank him for taking care of him.

 

“Always,” Dean assures him.

 

“Always,” Castiel agrees. “We’ll always be together. That’s what Sam said.”

 

“Sam’s the smartest of all of us,” Dean agrees. “He’s always right. We’ll always be together. I promise.”

 

Castiel believes him.


End file.
